Wayne The Orphan Becomes Wayne Malloy
by Errant Kitten
Summary: So how DID the Malloys come to adopt Wayne? And how did he meet Dahlia? The Kitten speculates...correctly? Maybe...
1. Chapter 1

WAYNE IS OUT ON HIS OWN

Wayne wandered through the park. Poor Father O'Meara. The dude could really HIT, though. Still, it wasn't a bad plan, selling autographed pictures of Jesus at the rest home. And the old bags had been so pleased with the pictures—and Wayne had ordered them a hundred for a buck apiece from the back of "Soldier of Fortune" magazine, right under the Asian mail-order brides, and sold them for twenty-five each on the dementia ward.

Father had sent a couple of guys over there, telling them that the administrator would pay minimum wage—so called "good spending money" for enthusiastic window washers and lawn crew workers… but Wayne had never been one for sweat equity.

Wayne shivered. The park in this shitty town was not too warm in November. Should he go back to St. Donegal's? Perhaps not for a few days. Wayne's untimely exit through the office window as O'Meara had swung the razor strop might mean for a bit of a vacation, at least a week, this time.

Back in July, Wayne had "found" some checks, and had pretended to have cerebral palsy, or something with a borrowed crutch and a drool. He'd gone to three ice cream stores, a Toys R Us and a children's bookstore, stuttering "Iss mah birf-day, can you cash mah birf-day check?"…everyone had cheerfully handed the disabled boy thirty-five bucks change and some ice cream.

Until, of course at the last place, the bookstore Father O'Meara had actually walked by—and Wayne was supposed to be in summer school because he'd cut too many Algebra classes the previous year!

O'Meara was getting sick of Wayne's hijinks, and certainly Wayne had gotten a severe warning after his roommate and partner in uh mischief, Toesie McCracken, had been turned over to the juvenile court by Father after being caught in a minor bookmaking operation down at Keegan's garage.

"I don't want that to happen to you Wayne" Father had said right before the beating started the night before. "You're a bright kid, an avid reader, and you could go to college, but the next time you act up, I'm calling the cops. Now drop your pants, you're getting fifty."

But instead of dropping his pants (the old pervert!) Wayne had dropped out of the window. Father also might be upset because Monsignor Hess was dropping by, and while Msgr's chauffer was having a smoke, Wayne borrowed the limo out front, driving it downtown, and selling it for a hundred bucks…most of which he'd lost in a crap game (easy come easy go) after dinner at Mickey Dee's…so what now?

He'd slept in the park, and now was wary of truant officers, being small for fourteen, and also Father might have called the cops, so he could finish that delicious whipping…ugh.

Wayne walked on, shivering, and wishing he'd been wearing his heavy boots instead of his Adidas when he'd split the boy's home…there was that girl again. What an idiot. No wait—this was weird.

Earlier this morning, after Wayne had enjoyed a shoplifted and undunked Dunkin' Donut, he'd spotted this cute dark haired girl standing with two or three other people by the statue of Colonel Whaddyacallit in the middle of the park.

They'd been mesmerized by this old geezer who was moving walnut half shells around on a crappy little table, and the girl was laying down a dollar, looking for the pea that supposedly was under one of the shells.

Normally Wayne would have just laughed at this idiot and moved off, but the girl was dark haired, and kind of cute…he'd walked up to her and said "Dude, the pea isn't there, he palmed it, Granddad there. He's trying to con you out of your dollar."

And the girl, she'd told Wayne to shut up, although the other two people had walked off, and the old guy had gotten up and threatened to kick Wayne's ass.

Well, what an ungrateful little bitch, right? But Wayne had figured, whatever, and had wandered off. But now here the girl was AGAIN, and the old guy was there, too, and he was playing three-card monte.

And he was TERRIBLE at it, the cards were obviously crimped…did this girl just want to lose all her freakin' money? And she's telling the other idiots in the crowd how cool this was…oh, she saw him.

The girl ran up to Wayne. "You're back. You asshole. Trying to warn me before!"

Wayne smiled. "Look, I get it…you must be with the old guy, right? You work with him. Fine, I'm off. I didn't understand before."

"Yes, that's right, you prick, but isn't there something else?" The girl was now shouting at Wayne in a thick Southern accent. What a freakin' hick.

"Yeah?" Wayne said, backing off slowly.

"When you came to warn me, you stole my wallet out of my purse!" The girl shrieked.

"Yeah, you're right…but there was only like, a dollar in it, you can have it back." Wayne tossed the girl the wallet.

"Who the FUCK do you think you are…what's wrong?" The girl noticed Wayne getting awfully nervous. From the other side of the park came two men in black outfits with little white collars.

"Um, I gotta go uh, hide, fast, uh…sorry."

The girl looked at Wayne appraisingly. "You need a place to hide from those um, preacher guys?"

"Yeah, kinda."

The girl turned to the old man, who was putting away thirty dollars bet him by a foolish tourist.

"Uncle Earl! Can you give me the keys to the Winnebago, like real fast?"

The old man squinted an eye at Wayne. "Why I suppose so, Dahlia…you going off to kiss with that boy that queered our pitch earlier?"

"Don't be disgusting. The keys!"

As Uncle Earl tossed Dahlia the keys, and the two kids ran off, the old man, who had heard all, asked the boy his name.

"Wayne Patruski, sir."

He liked this one! "Ah, might be Wayne Malloy after this!"


	2. Chapter 2

QUINN IS INTERESTED IN THE MALLOY'S NEW FIND

Eamonn Quinn looked up from his dog-eared copy of "Dubliners". Quinn was sitting happily with his feet up on a barrel, the tent behind him, and his woman cooking a bit of corn beef hash.

Aye, 'twas a fine day to be in camp, and he had a nice little bankroll, thanks to some idjit who thought he was gettin' rich buying stolen stereo speakers for his crummy Radio Shack franchise.

Buffers. If ye want to gimme seven thousand big ones for two hundred Pioneer boxes filled with cinderblocks…(and your people will unload 'em from my truck) be that as it may. And then, just before passing through Biloxi, Eamonn had "found" a snazzy red valet's coat, and let wealthy restaurant patrons tip him to steal their cars!

Eamonn noticed that Earl and Susan had arrived, and sullen Dale and fetchin' little Dahlia. Dahlia was an adoptee, of sorts, her ma long gone. Young Dale was more interested in being Dahlia's boyfriend than her brother, and it would be marryin' time soon. She could do better. Dale was far more interested in the smash-and-grab than in working various games.

Not all his fault. Dale wasn't bright, and his coordination was much too poor for hustling pool, or even fingersmith work. Big boy, though. At fourteen, Dale was nearly as tall as Quinn himself, and much taller than his daddy Earl. Perhaps Susan had mated with a gorilla somewhere along the way?

But who was the other youngster? He and Dahlia were quarrelling, something about the last cigarette in a pack of Marlboros. But 'twas a sort of fond feud…she was touching his shoulder, slapping him on his flannel shirt as she lectured him in that cute Georgia accent she'd picked up when we ran poker and dice games amongst the peach pickin' trash.

Earl walked up to Eamonn Quinn, who rose, and the two men hugged. "Quinn, good to see you!"

"You too, Earl Malloy." Quinn had been brought over from County Heath to be a Traveller at the age of eight, and although he was nothing like his Southern cousin, the two were closer than brothers, despite Earl being fifteen years Quinn's senior. "Y' seem to have picked up a young'un there."

Earl looked behind him, grinning at Dahlia and the new boy, who were irritatedly passing the cigarette back and forth. "Yep, we found him in Baton Rouge, Wayne, his name is. Clever little bugger."

Quinn raised a bushy eyebrow. "He'd have to be, we don't usually recruit, the Travellers." Quinn scratched his chin, and spat tobacco. "'Course y' know yer business."

"That boy is a madman." Earl said happily. "D'ye know, he took a Poly-roid pit-cher of Susanne's ugly ass circle block quilt—"

"Know it, slept under it, puked on it—"Quinn finished, and the two men laughed.

"The little son of a bitch jumps out of the RV and prints up some WORTHLESS lookin' tickets—said he learnt t' do it at his mackerel-snapper orphanage—"

"Hey, nuff of the Cat-lick bashing—"

"Well enny-how, he an' Dahlia and Dale all put on nice duds and took separate streets, and sumbitch if they didn't make us four hundred fifty dollars…even Dale made a bit, which was good for the boy's con-fidence, you know he ain't—"

"No, I know." Quinn nodded, noting that Dale was now happily kicking over little Minnie Callahan's jacks game. What kind of a lad—?

"An-then, just before we took off, Wayne got Dale to knock over a couple of shelves in a Kwik-Mart, and while Dahlia and Dale an' Susan and I helped the clerk pick them up, Wayne vaulted the counter, and pushed the right button on the register, somehow silencin' the ring and cleaned out another seventy bucks!"

"My goodness." Eamonn Quinn said slowly. He'd have to check this youngster out.

"We just picked him up, young Wayne, wanderin' through a city park, but I won't let go of him for nothin' nohow. Maybe he can teach Dale a few things…we're groomin' Dale to run the family one day, right?" Earl's voice had a quaver in it.

To this, Eamonn Quinn said nothing, just watched Dale laughing, and pulling Minnie's hair. Earl was the leader of the pack now, and there was little point in annoying him unnecessarily.

SO THIS IS CAMP

"You just meet here your relatives and all?" Wayne asked Dahlia, as he flicked the butt into the woods. "Why? If you hustle and have the moolah, why give a part of it to anyone else?"

Dahlia shook her curly dark hair, exasperated. "Be-cause, WAYNE, family is ever-thang. An' they'll bail us out, and we can bail THEM out. "

Dahlia stretched and Wayne watched her breasts rise in the Debbie Harry T-shirt.

"When my momma was knocked up by a Buffer idiot, Earl and Susan were there for her, and then when Momma died (Wayne noted Dahlia pronounced it "dah-ed") they raised me, same as Dale, them and the other relatives. You don't understand family.

This was true. Wayne had little memory of his mother, who had dropped him off at the orphanage a decade before, and almost anyone who he'd gotten close to, that is, any kid who had charm or personality, was either adopted or kicked out…Wayne had learned self-dependence.

After all, the orphans were constantly tattling on each other, it was a snitch nest, really. The Sisters and the priests encouraged that, said God would reward you…Wayne had long learned that he was all he could depend on…

"Who is that creepy dude staring at me, he's talking to Earl?"

Dahlia breathed in and her breasts bounced Debbie's head merrily. "That's Eamonn Quinn. Watch out for him…he's a murderer, they says."


End file.
